Once Upon A Time
by badgirl-250
Summary: Snape and Hermione get pulled into a book of Fairy Tales and have to act out each and every fairy tale. Snape gets stuck wearing a dress, and Hermione finds herself exposed to her worst enemy. "Absolutely bloody terrific!"
1. Chapter 1

**Once Upon A Time...**

_Chapter One_

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**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

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Hermione Granger hated doing rounds. Although she appreciated the need for teachers to be present in the halls of Hogwarts late at night – her own adventures with Harry and Ron were good proof of that – she'd much rather have been in her quarters, working on her lesson plans (Headmistress McGonagall hadn't updated her lessons in twenty years!) or composing a letter to Draco.

Hermione flushed slightly at the thought of Draco. Her former enemy had more than proven himself in the final years of the war, first by feeding information to Dumbledore's Army that kept them barely ahead of Voldemort's forces, and then by saving Ron's life in a pitched battle, losing his own leg in the process. As if that hadn't been enough, Draco had allowed Harry to question him under Veritaserum, and to siphon his memories for study…literally _anything_ to help with the war. It had been a seemingly insignificant memory of Draco's that had eventually led Harry straight to the last Horcrux, enabling him to finally confront Voldemort and end the war once and for all.

Near the end of the war, Harry and Ron had gotten over their homophobia and admitted their feelings for each other – _finally_, Hermione thought. Her own feelings for Ron had dwindled, and she was thrilled and a bit relieved when Harry and Ron found each other. Although she had to admit that the idea of Harry and Ron together was…very exciting.

Since the middle of the war, Hermione and Draco had exchanged letters every week or so, and she'd grown to appreciate his sharp intellect and acerbic sense of humor. Recently, Draco's letters had been growing more…personal, and Hermione had found herself thinking of Draco as someone who might potentially be more than a friend. She'd been trying to drop hints in her own letters, and Draco's replies had indicated that not only was he aware of how her thoughts were trending, his own thoughts were heading the same direction.

As she walked silently through the dark halls, Hermione had to admit she felt more like herself then she had in a very long time. She and all her friends had been forced to grow up very fast once Dumbledore had died; the war had killed off the last of their childhoods, often figuratively and sometimes literally. Both Seamus and Dean had fallen to Death Eater curses, as had half the D.A. members. Charlie Weasley was Imperius-ed into the grasp of one of his own dragons. Angelina Johnson's throat had been crushed by Wormtail's silver hand before Fred and George Weasley had combined to end his sorry life at last. And Lavender…poor Lavender Brown, whose funeral Hermione had attended just a few months before classes finally resumed at Hogwarts, because she just wouldn't believe her dearest friend Parvati Patil could possibly want to hurt her…

But the silence of the old castle drew Hermione's thoughts back to previous trips late at night, most of them thrilling, several not really as dangerous as they'd thought, pretty much all of them against house rules. Strange to think of all the times she'd feared losing Gryffindor points, and now she feared her students would…it had been a real shock, being asked to be head of Gryffindor House. But it did make sense, in several ways; the Headmistress no longer could for fear of favoritism, and of all the teachers Hermione was the only one who'd been in Gryffindor herself. Not to mention, of course, that having one of the three heroes of the Wizarding World as head of house certainly made the awestruck students less inclined to disobey. Never mind that she was barely older than they were…why, even the youngest of them…

Hermione's steps faltered slightly. Could that really be true? Were the first-year students actually _twelve years_ younger than her? Had it really been more than half Hermione's life since that first magical evening, when she'd piled into the tiny boat with Harry, Ron and Neville, and gotten her first glimpse of the place she'd learn to see as her only home?

_To have my childhood back_, Hermione thought sadly as her pace resumed. _I could have chosen a different path, but chose the more adventurous one. The first time I ever chose that way…it led me to a sort of pain I never even knew existed – but it also led me to myself. If I'd gone to Eton like mum and dad had planned, I'm sure I'd have suffered less, but I wouldn't be me either_.

_Not to mention_, she added to herself with a slightly superior smirk, _that Mr. Harry-Savior-of-the-Wizarding-World-Chosen-One-Boy-who-Lived-Quidditch-God-Potter wouldn't have survived his first year without me – literally or figuratively_!

Now that Hermione had gotten the opportunity to truly explore the castle – not to mention that Harry had gifted her with the Marauder's Map when he'd found out she was to teach there – she'd learned the paths until she could walk them without even thinking of it, and allowed herself to wander. It still amused her every time she found students out of bounds for a private liaison, in a place they were _sure_ no one knew about.

Of course, the fact that it'd been almost four years since Hermione had had any of the same kind of fun meant she'd had some very inappropriate thoughts when she'd caught two students earlier that night, literally with their pants down. _Well, I'm not_ that _much older than the Seventh Years_, she'd told herself, and then decided it was definitely time to suggest a get-together in her next letter to Draco.

Since her mind had been wandering as much as her feet, Hermione didn't even focus on her surroundings until a rather loud bang, almost like an explosion, sounded from a room to her left. Within half a second her wand was in her hand and she'd already said the beginning of a Shield Charm – six years of being on the front lines of a war had given her spectacular reflexes. The Charm died on her lips as she saw that no one was attacking her. Quickly getting her bearings, she recognized that she was in the dungeons. A closer look, and Hermione realized that the room in question was Professor Snape's quarters.

Snape – after so many years he still remained an enigma. Like Draco, Snape had proven his loyalties during the war, sabotaging Death Eater missions from within and eventually being the one to take down Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange both. His betrayal of Voldemort had been so total that when Harry finally confronted Voldemort, he'd arrived just in time to keep Snape from being driven mad by the Cruciatus Curse. Even so it had taken some doing to convince the Ministry not to lock Snape in Azkaban forever – Harry's refusal to let go of old hurts hadn't helped, but eventually even he petitioned the Ministry to clear Snape's name. Snape settled back into tormenting Hogwarts students (Slytherins excluded, of course) as though he'd never left. He never spoke a word of the war again, and no one pressed him to.

Whatever her personal opinions of Snape, Hermione wasn't about to leave a fellow Professor when he might be in need of aid. Gripping her wand tightly, she approached the door, noting that the explosion seemed to have jarred it open slightly. Quickly, she pushed the door open, dropping low in case anyone decided to throw a hex her way.

Snape was behind his work desk, standing against a bookshelf a few feet back from a small tabletop cauldron and watching it warily – understandably, since the cauldron was emitting a thick, rust-colored smoke. His head snapped around when the door swung open, and a slight sneer curled his lips. Hermione flushed involuntarily; Snape still made her feel like a first-year sometimes. Since it was obvious no one was attacking, Hermione stood up slowly, lowering her wand. "Are you all right, Professor?"

"Fine," Snape snarled shortly; his temper was apparently a bit thinner even than usual.

Hermione eyed the cauldron with trepidation. "Is it supposed to do that?" she asked skeptically.

"Are you questioning my skills at potion-making?" Snape asked in a dangerous tone. He turned to the desk behind him. "Shut the door," he growled. Hermione stepped forward and closed the door behind her. Snape turned back, and looked startled she was there. "That was _not_ an invitation to stay!" he snapped.

Hermione's cheeks colored again, this time with anger. "Professor Snape, you may forget that I am no longer a student or your pupil; you may forget that I am, in fact, also a Professor, also a head of house, and a war hero who is, I might add, considerably more decorated than you! But a little more gratefulness would suit you, or barring that at least a _modicum_ of respect, considering I was one of a _very_ short list of people who spoke on your behalf and kept you out of Azkaban! I am here because I, like a fool apparently, continue to believe you are worth aiding!"

Snape stared at Hermione for a long moment before passing a hand over his eyes. He seemed to deflate slightly, and placed a hand on the table to steady himself. "_Professor_ Granger," he muttered, massaging his temple, "if I am being rude it is not my intention. I am nearing the completion of the _Libris Inserere_ potion, and you appeared just after I added the Charm component, which resulted in the _completely appropriate_ smoke. The potion is immensely complicated; I have never even attempted it before-"

"I should think not!" Hermione interrupted, staring at Snape incredulously. "It's only ever been used half a dozen times before!"

Snape raised his head and stared in utter disbelief. "You've heard of this potion?"

"Of course," Hermione said, her eyes fixed again on the cauldron. "It was mentioned in _Hogwarts: A History_, and it sounded fascinating, so I read up on it…" She looked back at Snape with profound respect. "And it's brewed properly? I knew you were an excellent potions master, but this…"

Snape looked rather pleased, and uncertain how to react to the feeling. "Everything has gone exactly as expected," he said smugly. "I now have to prepare myself for my resulting…journey."

Hermione nodded knowingly. _Libris Inserere_ was world-renowned as a potion for the ultimate intellectual. It transported the maker _into_ the book of their choice, making them live out the main character's experiences as though they were his own. It was seen as the best, most complete way to gain a quintessential understanding of a powerful piece of literature.

It also took a strong mind and remarkable constitution to survive living another life and not be driven insane – two of the six people in history who had previously used the potion had gone mad, which was why no one ever attempted it. But of course, Snape had a great deal of previous experience pretending to be someone he wasn't. "I never took you for someone who appreciated the written word so much," she said softly.

"My interests are my own," Snape said, although not as sharply as he might have. "I've wished to attempt this potion for a long time, but for many years I felt unprepared. And then, of course, there was the second war."

_The war_…Hermione felt the awkwardness creeping back to her. The war was still too recent, too raw, for the people who'd been in the middle to really grasp that it was over. Harry hadn't been the only one with constant nightmares by the end of it, and Hermione doubted Snape was any different, although she knew he'd never admit it. Desperate to avoid the subject, Hermione picked up the book resting beside the cauldron. "Is this the book for the potion?" she asked needlessly. "You've chosen…" she trailed off as she read the words on the cover. "_The Idiot_?" Hermione frowned at Snape. "You can't be serious."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "You think poorly of Dostoevsky?"

"Not poorly, it's just…Professor, he's so _dry_!" Hermione exclaimed, putting the book down. "You're going to have to _live_ this, surely there's a book which would be more appropriate…"

"Ah, you feel I should look for more excitement?" Snape asked with a sneer. "Perhaps a romance novel would be more _appropriate_?"

"Of course not," Hermione replied, trying not to laugh at the idea of Snape as the rugged, masculine hero in a typical romance. "But since you have to live out the hero's role…do you really want to use this miraculous potion for the chance to be Prince Myshkin?"

Snape hesitated. "That…had occurred to me," he admitted reluctantly. "However, of the novels I'm familiar with it seemed the most worthy."

"Well, there must be something," Hermione stated, turning to Snape's bookshelf. "What about _The Hobbit_?"

"Thank you, no," Snape's voice commented dryly. "I'm not inclined to challenge dragons while barely taller than Filius." Hermione rolled her eyes and continued to peruse Snape's books. "Professor, I would ask you not to critique my collection."

"What do you care?" Hermione muttered. "Two thirds of these books are Potions texts…" Ignoring Snape's request, she ran her finger along the spines of the books, pausing every now and then as she found something surprising. _A Brief History of Time…Being and Nothingness_…despite the almost painfully dry nature of the collection, Hermione was impressed. Snape's collection suggested a mind inquisitive of every subject, always prepared to learn. Since that was how Hermione saw herself, it was a bit startling. "Don't you own any fiction?" she asked finally.

"I tend to concern myself with the real world, Miss G- Professor," Snape said acidly.

"Some of us enjoy retreating from the real world from time to time," Hermione shot back, her temper flaring slightly. "In case you haven't noticed, sometimes it's rather hard to endure. Besides, you're about to step into a work of fiction – what's that if not retreating from the world?" Snape had no reply to that, so Hermione continued her search. "Maybe Shakespeare?"

"I considered it," Snape confessed grudgingly. "However, the role of _hero_ must be clearly defined, or I may end up as anyone. I've no desire to intend to be Iago, and wind up Othello."

Hermione nodded; Snape had a point, and it certainly limited the choices. But then her eyes fell on one particular book whose colorful binding looked promising. "Here's something, I think," she said, pulling the book down from the top shelf; although the other books on the shelf were somewhat dusty, this book was clean and obviously well-read. "It's…" Hermione read the title, and her jaw dropped. "Why on earth do you have-?"

"_Give me that_!" The poised, dignified professor disappeared and Snape lunged across the table at the book in Hermione's hand. Just as his hands close around the book he collided with the cauldron, sending the Potion sloshing onto both himself and Hermione.

Before either of them could react, a sharp tug not unlike the feel of a Portkey grabbed them and sent them hurling out of reality.

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**A/N: Please review! My sister and I came up with this story.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Once Upon A Time...**

_Chapter One_

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**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Severus Snape, just his delectable Slytherin clad boxers behind**

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Hermione blinked dazedly and glanced around. She was in a clearing in the woods…not too startling since she'd done her share of walking around in the Forbidden Forest. But as the fog cleared in her mind, she began to realize that things…weren't quite right.

For instance, she was holding a heavy stick resting against her shoulder. She let the heavier top end fall to the ground, and saw it wasn't a stick but an axe. And there was a hat on her head, but she never wore hats. And pants as well, and suspenders…

Apparently she was dressed as some sort of woodsman. Which was odd – until she remembered what book she'd been holding when Snape had spilled the _Libris Inserere_ potion on them. Not being one to swear often, Hermione nevertheless felt the need to let one fly. "_Chiron's hairy horse-arse_!"

"I am less enamored of this situation than even you are," Snape said, and Hermione spun around, having been unaware Snape was behind her. But when her eyes fell on him, Hermione's brain threatened to shut down in protest.

Snape was wearing a dress. A small red dress that on a woman would have left little to the imagination. A bit of chest hair poked through where a woman would have filled out, and never did Hermione ever think she'd witness the sight of Snape's legs disappearing under a skirt. There was a matching red shawl over his shoulders. He was carrying a small wicker basket, out of which poked the end of a baguette.

He was wearing sandals.

Red ones.

Open-toed.

_Wonderful. Now I'll never be able to look at the man again without thinking of his legs! Although they are fairly impressive…nicer than I'd have thought. Very lickable calves- oh sweet Merlin! Evanesco my BRAIN_!

Snape all but growled at the look on Hermione's face. "Look at what you've done!" he hissed.

"Me? _Me_? _You're_ the one who lunged across the table, you- you-" Hermione couldn't think of anything nasty enough to call Snape. "Was it so horrible that I find out Professor Severus Snape owns a book of _children's fairy tales_?"

"I didn't _ask_ you to barge into my rooms!" Snape exploded. "But you had to act like the same insufferable know-it-all you've always been! My choice of literature wasn't _good enough_ for you, and _now look at me_!"

"You've got some bloody nerve!" Hermione shrieked. "I didn't want any part of your potion, you smarmy, self-important bastard! But because of your damn blundering, we're going to have to act out _LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD_!"

"I'd think you would be right at home in a muggle fairy tale," Snape shot back. "Ever since you first arrived at Hogwarts you've done nothing but live in a fantasy world anyhow!"

_Oh, that does it_! Hermione hefted the axe, determined to murder Snape right then and there, impressive calves or not. "Don't!" Snape snapped, raising his hands in alarm. "Do you _want_ to be trapped here? If you kill me, if you change the story, we'll never get out!"

Hermione hesitated, axe raised. As much as she didn't want to be trapped in a fairy tale, the idea of burying the axe in Snape's neck was unbelievably tempting. Finally the axe got too heavy to hold up, and she let it fall to the ground. "Is there any other way out of this, or do we really have to-?"

"There is no other way," Snape answered, grinding his teeth. "Be grateful you are familiar with the story, or we would never get out."

_I am going to kill Snape's legs once we get out of here_. "Fine. Fine! Let's just do this. You skip along to granny's house; and maybe I'll even get there to save your cross-dressing hide before the wolf takes a bite out of you!"

Snape raised an eyebrow, but refrained from commenting on Hermione's anger. "We must match as many details from the story as we can remember," he said instead, speaking slowly and with contained anger, as if he were explaining a simple potion to a class of First-Years. "Fortunately the potion will be somewhat flexible since there are various versions of the tale-"

"I _know_ how the potion works!" Hermione interrupted hotly. "And I'm certain I know the _tale_ better than you! Now just get out of my sight, or I'll start critiquing your wardrobe!" When Snape didn't move, Hermione added nastily "You know, red really isn't your color, and if you're going to wear open-toed shoes you should really trim your nails at least once a year-"

"Very well," Snape snapped. "But _in case you've forgotten_, you may be transported suddenly to the spot your character should be in the story; be prepared to orient yourself quickly."

"Fine," Hermione muttered, chagrined that she had forgotten that part of the potion. She sat down on a fallen log resignedly. "Go on, then."

After one last sneer, Snape moved around behind Hermione, heading into the woods. _He's got some nerve calling me insufferable_, Hermione thought, her anger beginning to settle into annoyance (and a bit of trepidation). _Pot calling the kettle black – or red, as the case may be_. She bit her lip as she fought briefly with herself and lost. _One last look at those calves won't hurt anything_, she told herself, turning quickly before Snape could disappear, and her eyes bugged out of her head.

He was skipping. The same barely-concealed rage was, if possible, even more apparent in his demeanor, but there was no mistaking his gait for a lope or a saunter or even a meander. Professor Severus Snape, feared and reviled by students and fellow teachers alike, was skipping.

There was no way Hermione could have resisted laughing, even if she'd been inclined to try. Snape stopped and narrowed his eyes in her direction as she leaned on the handle of her axe and laughed so hard she cried. "I suppose you find this satisfying in some twisted way," Snape growled eventually.

"Just desserts, Professor," Hermione gasped out as she got herself back under control. "You did get us into this. Don't you think that just maybe, you have a bit of humility coming to you?"

"_Professor Granger_, it would be nigh impossible for me to be any further humiliated than I already am. If word of this charade gets out it will mean the end of my career at Hogwarts, to say nothing of my pride. But loathe though I am to endure these indignities, the idea of being trapped in this sickeningly sweet world is an even more horrifying prospect. Bearing that in mind, would you truly have me neglect any details, however seemingly insignificant, that might result in our failure to complete this story and be on our way?"

Though she found his condescending tone rankling, Hermione had to concede that Snape had a point. "No," she admitted grudgingly.

"Quite." Snape sneered smugly. "The story specifically states that Miss Hood _skipped along the path_. I am, in this nausea-inducing scenario, Miss Hood. Thus, I skip. I would implore you to have the same care for detail with your own character."

Hermione glanced down at herself; she was wearing overalls and a plaid button-down shirt, heavy boots that hurt her feet, and the axe she carried seemed to grow heavier every minute. "What would you suggest? Spitting, grabbing my crotch and calling you darlin'?"

"A little more seriousness, if you please," Snape responded with a haughty sniff. "We may not like each other, but you were correct that this situation might be slightly less disastrous if we grant each other the respect due to colleagues, if nothing else."

"The fact that you're just as stuffy and superior while wearing a frilled dress is frightening." Hermione sighed. "Oh, very well." She hefted the axe onto her shoulder. Let's get this over with."

"Indeed." And spinning on the heel of his black – but decidedly feminine – sandals, Snape was off, skipping for all he was worth.

*****

Hermione considered her axe nervously. _I'm stronger than I used to be, she thought, but I don't think I'm strong enough to kill a wolf with an axe_. Wondering if she could do anything to help herself, she patted her outfit absently, and gasped when she felt a long thin length of wood in her pocket. With a triumphant "Yes!" she pulled out her beloved wand. Apparently the potion allowed for situations so dire that magic might be necessary. "That wolf is history!"

Then Hermione hesitated. If she changed the story more than the flexibility of the potion allowed, she'd ruin everything; and she was fairly certain there wasn't a version of the story anywhere in which the woodcutter used a wand against the wolf. She grumbled resignedly, wishing that 'Little Red Riding Hood' was a wizard's fairy tale.

_Well, at least I can even the odds a bit_, she decided, and cast a few charms to make the axe lighter and sharper, and to add a bit of temporary strength to her arms and chest. The extra muscles felt very odd, and Hermione was certain she looked quite ridiculous. _Though not as ridiculous as Snape in the red dress_, she thought amusedly. If nothing else, the memory of Snape decked out as Red would make excellent Pensieve-based blackmail material.

Hermione took a few practice swings with the axe, pleased to find that her enhanced strength made it feel light as a feather. There might be something to say for such ridiculous muscles after all. _I wonder if I could make my leg muscles like Snape's_…

Hermione groaned. She knew she wouldn't be thinking like that about Snape if she wasn't so…frustrated. At least, she didn't think she would. _But the man really is quite brilliant, and talented. And if he'd stop being so obstinate he could probably improve his appearance with a little effort. With legs like that he must have a reasonably nice body, if he'd only show it off a bit…and be a bit friendlier_…

_Oh, those bloody fine legs. He couldn't have had gammy chicken-legs? No, he had to have Thighs of Granite. I bet they're not as cold as granite…probably quite nicely warm and_…

Hermione put her head in her hands. _I wonder if I have time to diddle myself before the bloody wolf tries to eat Snape's legs_.

Not wanting to risk it, Hermione took out her frustration with the axe on some nearby trees. She was shocked to discover it only took one swipe to cut all the way through a tree two feet in diameter. _Well, I do remember the woodsman is supposed to dispatch the wolf with one blow, at least in the version I recall…maybe the potion is allowing for that_-

All of a sudden Hermione was somewhere else. She stuck her arm out and grabbed the fence beside her as her brain rebelled at the shock. _It must be almost time for my big entrance_…

Right on cue there was a yell; Hermione thought it sounded rather unconvincing. Snape had duped even Lord Voldemort, but apparently his ability to scream like a little girl was limited. _Well, we'll just have to test that once we're out of here_, Hermione thought nastily as she set off in the direction of the yell, and then gritted her teeth at the unintended double meaning.

She picked up the pace when another cry sounded; rounding a corner, Hermione pulled up short. Snape was on the ground, scrambling away from what looked like an actual, real-life werewolf. _I can't kill that_! Hermione thought madly. _It's a person most of the time_!

Snape caught sight of Hermione; when she just stood there he cursed under his breath, kicking out at the approaching wolf (inadvertently showing off a bit of inner thigh). "What the bloody he- _what are you doing_?" he yelled. "_Save_ me, you daft- woodsman!"

_Oh, right- just a story_! Hermione thought, and rushed forward. As the wolf raised a massive paw to disembowel Snape, Hermione swung the axe. The blade passed straight through the wolf's neck, and without a sound the wolf fell to the ground, clearly dead.

"Thank you, kind woodsman," Snape drawled as he got up, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Cut it a bit fine, don't you think?"

"It was supposed to be in the nick of time," Hermione said distractedly, staring at the body of the wolf. "Why isn't there any blood?"

"Because this is a children's story, of course," Snape said as though it should be obvious. "Children's stories don't contain blood."

"Hah. Once we're out of here I'll lend you my copy of these stories as they were originally written; Voldemort had nothing on the writers of fairy tales."

Snape winced at the sound of Voldemort's name. "Professor," he said with surprising humility, "I would ask, in all respect, that you never mention that name in my presence again. There is a part of my past I'm not proud of, and it is my desire to leave it behind me."

Hermione stared. That was the single most sincere and honest thing she'd ever heard Snape say, and she felt the admission of his shame about his past was the greatest respect he'd ever shown her. "All right," she said softly, suddenly feeling as though her skin was too tight. "I promise I'll never _intentionally_ bring that up in your presence again."

"Thank you, Prof- Hermione," Snape said very formally. Hermione was shocked that he'd used her first name; but before she could respond, the tug came again and the world swirled out of existence.

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**A/N: Review! I also have four chapters done and ready, but I'll need some ideas for some more fairy tales. If I don't get any sufficient ideas, I will discontinue the story. Have fun you guys!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Once Upon A Time...**

_Chapter Three_

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**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Severus Snape, just his delectable Slytherin clad boxers behind**

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Hermione blinked again. She was still in the forest. Not the same forest, she realized – in fact, it looked more like the Forbidden Forest. Why would she have come out of the potion's influence in the Forbidden Forest?

She turned around, and when she saw Snape it was clear they weren't out of the woods yet. "Oh, fucking _hell_."

Snape was wearing bloody _lederhosen_. His black shoes had shiny silver buckles on them. Hermione's outfit was practically identical, except her version had rudding _bloomers_! She was wearing a bonnet; another damned hat! And as if that wasn't bad enough, they were wearing shorts – Snape's legs were _still visible_! Snape was looking around, completely flummoxed. "I don't understand," he muttered finally.

"I do," Hermione snapped. "Check your pockets." When Snape stared at her blankly she repeated herself; "_Check your pockets_!" Numbly, Snape rummaged in his pockets and produced his wand. "No, check again." Snape did, and found a hunk of rough bread. "I thought so," Hermione growled resignedly. "_Hansel & Gretel_."

"What?"

"_Hansel & Gretel_," Hermione repeated furiously. "The next story in the book of fairy tales!"

"But we completed the story!" Snape exclaimed, with a clear treble in his voice.

"I bet this is the first time the potion's been used on a book with more than one story in it," Hermione said, trying to calm herself with reason. "We're going to have to go through every single story in the book in order to get out!"

"Oh _no_." Snape went completely white. Hermione thought she actually heard a whimper. "I changed my mind," he whispered. "Kill me now."

"What? Snape – Professor – it won't be that bad," Hermione answered soothingly, somewhat startled at Snape's reaction. After all, it sounded annoying to her, but not unbearable. "There can't be that many stories…"

"Hermione," Snape said, grabbing her arms and staring with wild eyes, "please, kill me!"

He tried to shove his wand into her hand. "Stop it!" Hermione shouted, and backed off. "Sna- Severus," she amended, using his first name to try and get some sense out of him, "we'll manage all right. Please, I need your help in this or we'll never get home!" _Not to mention you look utterly ridiculous in a bowl cut_.

Snape looked a bit sickly, but finally he nodded. "Good," Hermione said with relief. She gently took the bread out of Snape's hand. "Now come on," she said, and set off through the woods, breaking off little pieces of bread and dropping them behind her.

Snape timidly walked beside her. He was silent for a long time, and still looked very pale. He also continued to look confusedly at Hermione every time she dropped a piece of bread. "Why on earth are you wasting our only sustenance?" he asked eventually.

"What? You- but you knew _Little Red Riding Hood_!" Hermione exclaimed. "You mean you've never read _Hansel & Gretel_?"

"No," Snape admitted. "I- these stories never interested me."

"Then why do you- oh, never mind," Hermione huffed. "We're brother and sister in this story," she explained. "We're lost in the woods; depending on the version, either our parents left us here because they couldn't feed us, we got lost picking berries, or we just plain got lost and our father's a Duke or something. I'm dropping bread crumbs so we can find our way back if we get lost."

Snape's brow wrinkled. "But we're in a forest; there are animals. And if we're already lost…"

"It doesn't have to make sense; children's stories often don't," Hermione pointed out, and Snape nodded. "Eventually we'll come to a gingerbread house."

"A house in which gingerbread is made?"

"No, a house made of gingerbread."

"Made of…" Snape thought about that. "There must be a lot of wildlife with no teeth in this forest."

"You don't have to tell me, my parents are both dentists," Hermione said. "Muggle healers of teeth," she added when Snape raised a questioning eyebrow. "When they read me this story, the house was made of crackers."

"I see." Snape was silent for another moment. "Very well. And then?"

"The witch who lives there will invite us in," Hermione said.

"The witch? There's a witch? What does she want with us?"

"She wants to shove us into her oven and cook us, and then eat us."

Snape looked at Hermione calculatingly. "You're having me on."

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm afraid not. Witches are usually the villain in old stories."

"True." Snape shook his head. "All right. What do we do with the witch?"

"Burn her. Shove her into her own oven and let her bake alive. Then we get out and find our way out of the woods, back to our parents' castle." She grinned at Snape's expression. "The earlier versions were even nastier."

"Muggles have sick minds," Snape declared. "Even in their children's stories people get eaten."

"Are there no wizard children's stories that are similar?"

Snape hesitated. "A few," he conceded. "Not typically so graphic, from what I recall. Although I was far more interested in potions even as a child."

"Really?" Hermione shook her head. "You're lucky you found your calling so early. I almost wish I'd gotten to grow up in a Wizarding family. All through my childhood I knew I wasn't where I belonged, but I didn't understand why."

Snape glanced sideways at her. "Why did you accept the post at Hogwarts? I was certain you'd go on to university – you're certainly clever enough."

Hermione flushed a bit at the unexpected compliment. "It- it was the war," she said quietly. When no angry retort was forthcoming she continued; "I learned something very important during the last few years – nothing can teach you like experience. Shutting myself away in university would have stifled my learning, if anything, even a Wizard university. Anything I learn in the future will come from life, not studying."

Snape was silent for a long time; Hermione chose to let him ponder – it was better than the possibility of another snarky comment. She much preferred being on good terms with Sn- with Severus, and he seemed meeker than usual, or at least less aggressive in his behavior. _Who would've guessed Snape – Severus – has a passive side. That's something else he should let out more often_, she thought, and then fought down furious blushes at the possible implications. _Bloody damn and blasted gorgeous legs! And he's being more civil; if we don't get out of here soon I may end up dramatically rewriting these stories, and they won't be children-safe any longer_!

Funny to think that they were getting on better than ever inside a book of fairy tales. She wondered what else might test their sanity before they escaped – 'Three Little Pigs', maybe? _Severus would be the pig who built his house out of bricks_, she decided, struggling not to smirk at the mental image of Severus as a pig. _That would make me…either the wolf, or the pig who built his house out of wood. And got eaten_. Hermione shuddered. _Oh, I hope that one isn't in here. Severus is right…these stories are sick, seen from the inside_.

What about 'The Princess and the Pea'? That wouldn't be so bad…Severus could simply pretend he'd felt the pea, and that would be the end of it.

_Oh Merlin…please, not 'Rapunzel'. I don't even want to think about climbing up that filthy hair. _

"Hermione," Severus said, startling her, "I appreciate your enduring this…debacle with as good graces as you have."

"I'm almost as embarrassed by this as you are, I'm sure," Hermione replied. "Although…well, this may not be the most remarkable literature, but I do feel rather proud to be one of only eight people to ever successfully engage the _Libris Inserere_ potion. It's quite humbling."

"Indeed. Although this hasn't gone even vaguely as planned, I am pleased the potion performed as intended. Perhaps I'll even attempt to brew it again some day…somewhere there are no other books that could possibly be touched. And with the door locked. And magically sealed. And barricaded. And, if possible, on another planet."

"A wise precaution, I would think," Hermione agreed with a slight smile. Was it her imagination, or was Severus almost smiling as well? _I'll have to remember to tell Ron and Harry I've won our bet_.

"And if I am forced to go through this, I consider myself…fortunate you are here as well."

"You- you do?" Hermione gasped. "Why?"

"For one thing, you know these tales; without your guidance I would be trapped here forever," Severus said as though it were obvious. "And- I believe I can trust that once we are home, you will refrain from spreading word of my horrible blunder."

"Hah! The next time I see Rita Skeeter she's going to get an earful," Hermione responded blithely. "Oh, I'm just joking, Severus!" she added when he froze in his tracks and stared at her in panic. "I have no desire to be known as the rescuer of Little Red Riding Snape! Besides, it's just a few child-safe fairy tales; it won't be _that_ unendurable, only a bit silly."

Strangely, Severus went white again, and dropped his gaze. "Hermione…I have to tell you-"

Hermione cut Severus off with a sharp gesture and pointed. They'd stepped into the edge of a clearing, and the gingerbread house was right in front of them. "All right," Hermione whispered. "The witch will open the door when we get closer, and invite us inside to eat whatever we want. She'll lock the door, and try to toss me into the oven."

"Why you first?" Severus enquired quietly.

"Presumably so the male could save the female," Hermione said sourly. "You'll have to rescue me, of course."

"So I get to be the dashing hero after all," Severus drawled sarcastically.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and scowled at the house. The cookie roof had pink frosting. The fence was made of giant candy canes. The "grass" was really cotton candy. "Dear Merlin, I can _smell_ the sugar from here!" she hissed.

"I amend my earlier statement," Severus said. "Any animal with half an ounce of instinct wouldn't come near this house."

"So what does it say about us that we're about to walk right into it?"

"It says that we're victims of circumstance; that is, we haven't a bloody choice, unless we decide we truly adore these clothes," Severus replied smartly, pulling disdainfully at his suspenders.

Hermione snorted. "Oh, very well. But I'm only going to nibble _one_ piece of candy; I've never had a cavity in my life, and I'd like to keep it that way!"

"I daresay it's safe to nibble a bit more than that," Severus murmured. Then he seemed to realize what he'd said.

And he blushed.

_Severus Snape, former Death Eater, double agent from two Wizarding wars, nightmare of a thousand __children to pass through the doors of Hogwarts, and owner of the Granite Thighs of Worldly Delight, is blushing at me. That's as flattering as it is disturbing_.

Hermione turned away to hide her own blushes and pretended she hadn't noticed, even though it was completely obvious she had. _Well done, Professor Granger. You just had to use the word 'nibble', didn't you? Now that word will be hanging between the two of you forever! 'Oh Professor Snape, I was hoping you could help me answer a nibble- QUESTION, help me nibble a question!' _

For the sake of successfully escaping the book (for there was no way Gretel even considered doing to Hansel what Hermione was considering doing to Severus against that tree), Hermione strode purposefully toward the house, and Severus hurried to follow. She fully expected the door to fly open just as they reached it, but it remained solidly shut. Frowning, Hermione pulled at the handle and found the door locked. "Where's the witch?" she asked rhetorically as she tried to peer in the window, and found it the glass was actually molded sugar and mostly opaque.

"Right in front of me," Snape replied sarcastically.

Hermione scowled at him. "You know what I mean! Why isn't she coming out?"

"I have no idea. Perhaps we missed something."

Hermione thought about that. "Oh…well, in each version I've read, the witch catches Hansel and Gretel in the act of eating her house; it always struck me as foolish of them not to suspect something when she wasn't mad about it." Severus snorted. "So maybe we have to ni- to eat a bit and she'll come out."

"Very well," Severus said, and broke a piece of windowsill off. He sniffed it cautiously, and then took an experimental bite. "Peanut brittle," he declared solemnly.

"Good?"

"I've had better."

Deciding not to ask where, Hermione snapped off a piece of gingerbread ornamentation. She took a – a _nibble, damnit_! – and almost shrieked when the door banged open and the most hideous person she'd ever seen stepped out.

The witch was squat and grotesque – she reminded Hermione of Umbridge, actually, except her skin was greener and she had a nauseating collection of warts. She was even wearing the instantly recognizable black cape and pointed hat. "Well, and who might you dearies be?" she asked, and then cackled. Even her cackle was straight out of a script.

"I am Hansel, and this is my sister Gretel," Severus said blandly as Hermione tried not to frown at the negative stereotyping. "We are lost in the woods."

"Oh, you poor dears," the witch oozed unconvincingly. "But I see you're fond of my Gingerbread house – why you've already eaten some of it!"

"We're sorry," Hermione said quickly. "We were just so hungry…"

Severus raised an eyebrow at her, but the lie had been right out of the tale and the witch reacted appropriately. "Never you mind, child. Why not come inside? The best of the sweets are in here!"

"Of course they are," Severus muttered as he stepped over the threshold, Hermione right behind him.

The door slammed shut once they were inside, and the witch grabbed at Hermione, trying to shove her toward the open door of the enormous oven. "Oh, there'll be such a feast tonight!" she cackled.

Hermione rolled her eyes; as a full-grown woman she was quite a bit stronger than the old witch, but she played along, allowing the witch to push her closer to the fire. "Oh no!" she cried, although without much enthusiasm. "The horrible witch plans to eat us!"

"Take your hands off my sister!" Severus yelled with considerably more oomph to his role. _He's a much better rescuer than helpless damsel_, Hermione thought, and then fought down a giggle. In one quick motion, Severus pulled Hermione free; as the witch turned he stuck out his foot, tripping her. Arms flailing wildly, the witch stumbled back and tripped over the hearth, tumbling end-over-end into the fire. The edge of her cloak caught the iron door and pulled it shut, sparing Hermione and Severus from having to see the woman go up in flames. "Well," Severus said after a long silence, "that was just absurdly easy."

"I imagine it would be a bit more difficult for two little children, Severus," Hermione snapped as she headed for the door. When it wouldn't budge, Hermione kicked the sugar lock off.

"I don't understand why you're so upset," Severus said as he followed Hermione across the clearing and back into the forest. "That went rather well, I thought – and it was blissfully short."

Hermione actually agreed; that wasn't what had upset her. When Snape had pulled her away from the witch, his thumb had brushed lightly against the back of her hand, and her reaction was so fierce she wasn't certain she could stand being around him much longer. _The question has ceased to be "How long until we're out of here" and is fast approaching "How long until I can either diddle myself sore or severely molest and traumatize my colleague_?"

Severus made no further attempts to talk to Hermione as she shoved her way through the forest. Eventually she stepped around a tree and found herself on a flat, even surface. "A road," she said needlessly.

"Hermione!" Severus hissed. "There's someone coming!"

Hermione turned around to see a fancily-dressed man on regal bearing atop a magnificent horse. "It's Hansel and Gretel's father," she whispered back.

"How do you know?"

"Because he's the only other character in the story!" Hermione growled just before the man reached them. "Father!" she exclaimed, plastering a smile on her face.

The reunion almost completely lifted Hermione's spirits, if for no other reason than to see Snape smoldering with rage as their 'father' smothered them with affection. Finally they met up with the rest of the army, which the Duke had dispatched to search for his children, and Hermione and Severus found themselves riding on a wagon in the middle of a multitude of guards, heading back to the castle. "Any time now we'll move on to the next story," Hermione whispered. "I've been trying to gauge how many more there might be…unfortunately, we may have several more to go!"

Severus again looked pale, as he had in the forest. Figuring Severus could use a bit of distraction, Hermione muttered "So when did you have better peanut brittle than the witch's?"

Severus looked completely stunned by the question. "Albus was fond of it," he offered eventually.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed as something clicked. "Headmistress McGonagall has a tin of peanut brittle…I suppose Dumbledore taught her to appreciate it…"

"I very much doubt that. Minerva is allergic to peanuts," Severus replied with a wry twist of his lips.

_Stop doing that with your lips_! Hermione screamed in her head. "Hmm. I suppose it's a memorial of some sort, then. Or else…" her eyes widened. "Did the Headmistress fancy Dumbledore?"

Snape didn't respond to that – but he blushed again, and a thought appeared, completely unbidden but fully formed in Hermione's head: _He twists his lips. He's in bloody shorts. He blushes. Severus Snape is a sadistic torturing bastard who must be strapped down, whipped raw, coated in chocolate syrup and appropriately cleaned by tongue, and then properly shagged within an inch of his life. All by me_.

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**A/N: Thank you all for your wonderful ideas and stories. Some of them like Alice In Wonderland might be just what I need. Other than that, I was hoping that maybe you could come up with some more...uncommon fairy tales. Hopefully soon to come will be Alice in Wonderland and Cinderella. A quick question, will it seem a little weird if perhaps we included some wizarding fairy tales? Hmmm...REVIEW!**

Snape got one good look at Hermione's expression of horror before the world disappeared again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Once Upon A Time...**

_Chapter Four_

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**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Severus Snape, just his delectable Slytherin clad boxers behind**

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_Oh my_, Hermione thought faintly, her gaze traveling upward. _What a huge… castle_!

The enormous stone edifice she was being led into was even more impressive than Hogwarts, at least in sheer size. She hoped she wouldn't be forced to walk all the way up to the top, as the satchels she was carrying were quite heavy. _I have no idea which story this is_, she realized, and almost panicked. _What if I do something out of character without even realizing it_? There was nothing to be done, though, but follow the lead of the rather surly guard she was trailing and pray that Severus would play along as well

until they met up again.

Finally the guard deposited Hermione in a small but lavish room on the second floor and told her to wait for the king to arrive. _Well, that will be Severus, with any luck_, she thought as the door was shut in her face. She dropped the satchels and collapsed onto a bench to wait. _What on earth am I supposed to be? She pondered. Maybe there's a clue in the bags_?

Hermione pulled one of the satchels open and sifted through. _There's nothing but clothes in here_, she thought, puzzled. _Like I'm traveling. But they're very fancy clothes. Maybe the other satchel…no, it's more of the same. But this is all far too big to fit me…_

The answer hit Hermione just as the door flew open and in strode Severus dressed as the king, with the queen in his wake. "And what do you want?" he bellowed, clearly venting some of his frustration over the situation.

Hermione looked up at Severus. She thought about the story, and what was going to happen next. And she blushed so badly she couldn't even bring herself to speak. _I'm- and he's going to- and he'll have to- oh Merlin he will die. He will literally fall over dead from mortification. I can see the tombstone; 'Here lies Severus Snape; Died of Shame Buck Naked On A Horse'_.

_I'm going to see him naked_.

"Well?" Severus snapped when Hermione didn't respond. "My time is precious, you slow-witted-"

"Clothier, your Majesty," Hermione cut in, snapping out of her rather vivid daydream of a naked Severus sunbathing. "Peddler in the finest outfits money can buy; silks and satins fit for a king, and at a king's ransom." She paused, trying to beg Severus with her eyes to play into her spiel.

"We know who you are," the queen said shortly, startling Hermione, and Severus as well.

"And as I recall, my husband forbade you entering his sight again for having shown him such crass, coarse, uncomfortable clothes."

She spoke as if bored and long-suffering of her husband's wild tastes, but Hermione could have kissed her. _She's playing along perfectly! Maybe the potion's helping us out a bit..._ "Ah, and that is why I have returned, your Majesty. For I have come into possession of a suit of clothing so fine, the one who wears it forgets it's even there."

Severus snorted. "Do not attempt to deceive me, peasant," he sneered. "No such clothing exists, or I would have heard of it."

_I changed my mind; forget the queen, I could definitely kiss Severus_. "It is a thing of utter rarity, Majesty, such that even I, in the trade of such things for twenty years, only heard of it recently; but it does exist, and I have what may be the only suit of it in the entire kingdom. Spun on a loom the size of a thimble, made from a web of golden moonlight, it is lighter and softer than the air itself. It is the rarest, most valuable thing, and my price for this magnificent suit will be ten thousand gold pieces."

The queen scoffed. "Ten thousand! That's almost the entire treasury!"

But Severus had been listening carefully, it seemed, for he had picked up on the direction of the story. "Cost matters little for such a fine thing, my queen," he oozed, his eyes fixed on Hermione. "I must have this suit!"

"But- but my Lord-" the queen stammered. "How would we pay the armies?"

"SILENCE!" Severus roared. "I've longed for such a suit for years, and will not be denied! Let the armies go unpaid, raise the taxes, I care not! The suit is mine!" He took a deep breath, and seemed satisfied at the queen's quailed appearance. "Now leave us, so I may try on the suit."

The queen hurried to do as she was told, and the moment she had shut the door Hermione hissed "Brilliant! Have you read this one?"

"No," Severus said quickly. "Are we still on course?"

"Yes, you're doing perfectly," Hermione assured him.

"Good. Now let's have the suit," Severus insisted. "I am to put it on, correct?"

_Oh, he isn't going to like this_, Hermione thought as she reached into the bag. "You are, but it's not going to be what you'd expect," she warned him. She stood up, her hands clenched in thin air at shoulder height. "Here it is."

Severus stared at Hermione for a full minute. "I fail to comprehend the joke," he said finally. "Hermione, this is not the time for games-"

"I'm not playing a game," Hermione snapped. "This is the magnificent suit you're going to empty your treasury to buy; a suit lighter and softer than the air itself."

"That is absurd. You know as well as I that it is impossible to create cloth out of moonlight."

"You, a wizard, say that to me? Anyhow, it doesn't have to make sense, remember? You're a vain king, and I'm a cunning con artist of a tailor. By the end of it I have you completely convinced it's real." She made as if to hand the 'suit' to Severus. "go on, pretend to put it on and get out there."

"You mean I am supposed to…walk around this castle…?" Snape couldn't quite get the last word out.

"No," Hermione told him, and his shoulders sagged in relief. "You're supposed to put it on, and declare it the best, most comfortable suit you've ever worn. Then you're to call for a grand parade, in which you ride through town on your horse so all the kingdom can see your wonderful new suit."

Severus' jaw hit the floor. "I'm going to have to parade around in front of the whole kingdom? Nude? On a horse? A _trotting_ horse?"

Hermione nodded, trying not to think about trotting naked Severus. "And no one will have the nerve to say anything because you're the king. But then some bratty little child will shout out 'Look, the king's not wearing any clothes!', the spell will be broken, and you'll be standing there in a different suit; your birthday suit."

"No." Severus sat down abruptly. "I refuse."

"Severus, we'll never get out of here-!"

"I no longer care," Severus declared. "I will not do this; so sayeth the king."

"You can't do this!" Hermione yelled. "I'll be stuck here too! I want to go back to my life  
– you can't just choose to condemn both of us to this world!"

"Watch me."

"Severus," Hermione said in a voice so calm Severus had to look up. "Take off your  
clothes and put on the invisible suit right now, or I swear you will regret it."

Severus sneered, although it was a touch nervous. "I believe I'm a match for you, by any  
stretch of the imagination."

"Yes, you could hold your own against me," Hermione agreed, still in the same chillingly calm voice. "But I have powerful friends, Severus. Friends who will do anything for me, anything I ask. They will die for me, kill for me, and most certainly torture for me. They'll stop at nothing, move heaven and earth, and they will find a way to get to us. They cannot be stopped by laws, by magic, or by the will of the gods. I am their kith and kin, and their indignation and righteous anger on my behalf is a thing of legend. So unless you want the words 'Harry Potter was here' branded into the crack of your arse, you will undress right now."

Severus swallowed. He looked all around the room, as though searching for an escape, and found none. Bearing a horrible, hollow look on his face, with slow, jerky movements, he began undoing his belt.

Severus literally froze before getting too far, and Hermione was forced to turn her back before he actually removed his clothes. It meant she didn't get to see him full-on as Merlin made him, but the few sidelong glances she got were almost enough to make her swoon. _I was so right…his entire body is as impressive as his legs. His ENTIRE body_!

Severus insisted that she remain facing away, but she still snuck a quick peek at his arse when he went to address the queen. _A few days tanning in the sun, and thus begins the new life of Severely Shapely, Porn Star_. She shook her head. _Hermione, you are unbelievable_! she thought with a smirk.

Hermione headed for the treasury as soon as Severus had left for the parade; sure enough, several huge cartloads of gold were waiting for her. Taking a chance, Hermione decided to magically shrink all but one of them with her wand; she shrank the gold in the last one well, stuck everything in her pocket, and hopped aboard the empty cart. A twitch of the reins and the sturdy horses took to the road, just as the first cheers drifted up from the other side of the castle. _Severus must be wowing the crowd_, Hermione thought, and she didn't stoplaughing until the story faded away.

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**A/N: Again wonderful fairy tale ideas! Anyways, it'll be some time before I update but don't worry, while I'm working on the next few chapters, I promise you that you can expect Cinderella in the next one. And I added a small twist to the story as well. Oh, and one more thing. I was wondering if anyone would mind if I changed the story's rating to M, so I could add another little twist to the story. Anyone mind?**


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